


Little monster

by hellomrschorusgirl



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Marvel Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 05:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16906938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellomrschorusgirl/pseuds/hellomrschorusgirl
Summary: You’re an arts student on the verge of graduating when you get the verdict: either you do an extra year or you take one extra, mandatory course to salvage your reputation. You hold a grudge against history and would rather be fooling around with your boyfriend than sitting in a bleak auditorium listening to some old fart’s war stories. Turns out that fossil isn’t as old as you thought he’d be and soon you’re begging for taste of Professor Rogers, taking advantage of the high life.





	1. Little Monster Part 1

The day you first let your mind wander to impure thoughts about your professor is the first day you dropped your panties on the bathroom floor of the ladies’ toilet. He’s everything you never knew you wanted and everything you know you shouldn’t want. That time you caught him palming himself through his skin-tight jeans, moaning sinfully, moaning your name and cursing under his breath, it changed your entire view on him.

Hell, it’s not a secret Professor Rogers had been screwing around here and there with a couple of his female students. The guy is notorious for his sex drive. Nor will you ever forget that night you were studying late for finals and on your way back from the coffee machine to the library, walking past his office and hearing him obscenely fuck the brains out of an exchange student that you knew for a fact would be gone the next week. A proper fucking and no loose ends, that’s how he operates. He bent her over his desk, ripped her panties down her legs and slammed into her without a warning.

Rumour has it that he wasn’t always such a tease but that since his divorce he’s been rather indulgent with his status as high society’s most favourite beau and the sexual perks that come with it. Professor Rogers can be described in three words and three words only: filthy fucking rich, emphasis on fucking.

His head is between your legs faster than you can turn around, his fingers digging into your ass cheeks and parting them so his tongue can lick a broad stripe from your clit to your cunt. Your palms sting with the coldness radiating from the tiled wall, your entire nervous system focused on one thing, your professor eating you out from behind. And to think that just three months ago you were going to quit this course.

Three months ago

“I’m telling you, Clint, if I ever get the opportunity to weasel my way out of this God damn assignment, I will seize it with both hands,” you whine to your best friend, absentmindedly drawing circles onto the cover of your notepad while waiting for inspiration to hit you like a speed train. Since you started dating Bucky Barnes, senior and notorious bad boy, your grades plummeted dramatically causing you to retake most of your exams and eventually resulting in getting assigned to a shitload of mandatory coursework for one of your least favourite subjects: history. As an arts student, you’re obliged to follow course on the history of art such as film and photography. So what’s the downside of this class, you must be wondering?

Clint casually shrugs, pausing the music he was listening to and taking off his earplugs. “You know, if you weren’t so busy sucking off Barnes, you wouldn’t be in this position. But I get it,” he says looking at you from the corner of his eye, “Barnes takes care of you. He loves you. So why not spend all your time riding his cock?”

You gasp at Clint’s brash words, covering his mouth with your hand as he laughs heartily. “We’re in a freaking library, Clint!,” you whisper forcefully, trying not to gain any unwanted attention from the librarian who’s been eying the two of you for a while now, stalking you like a hawk and waiting for a reason to kick you out without further notice.

“Come on, Y/N, don’t act all innocent,” Clint nudges your shoulder, “You’ve been going at it as soon as he took you out dancing which was, if I remember it correctly, only your second date. I didn’t peg you as the kind of girl to put out on the second date.”

“That’s because you don’t know me that well, jerk,” you shoot back playfully with a wink. “Buck and I, we have our own thing.” You shrug and card your fingers through your hair. “I can see myself marrying him, you know.”

Clint turns his body, facing you with obvious interest. “Marriage? You still have one year to go, Y/N. and then you have to find a job and make money. I think marriage isn’t something you should be worrying about now. First you should get your education right and then you can make as many babies with Barnes as you’d like.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Clint!,” you exclaim in a fit of giggles, “You are insufferable. Marriage does not equal getting knocked up, you fool.”

“Ha! That wasn’t the case with…,” your best friend hesitates, debating the words swirling in his mind. “You know, Nat.”

Natasha. The name tastes both sweet and sour on the tip of your tongue. Natasha was Clint’s everything, his first and if it was up to him also his last love. But she got a better offer and took off with Bucky’s father, ultimately becoming your boyfriend’s step-mother. It’s an awkward situation to say the least, with Natasha scrutinising every aspect of your relationship with both your bestie and your bae. And on top of that, Natasha is pregnant with Bucky’s step-brother or step-sister, worsening the situation by tenfold.

You and Clint receive a couple dirty looks from the librarian and you know it’s time to clear out. Quickly grabbing your things and stuffing them in your bag, you grab Clint’s wrist and guide him to the inner courtyard, spotting an empty spot close by the fountain and out of earshot from the other students relaxing in the early spring sun.

“Clint, I gotta tell you something.”

He nods, setting his backpack down between his feet. “Shoot.”

You explain to him that you’ve found someone willing to study with you. Her name is Wanda and she seems like a nice girl. You’re meeting her for coffee after class. “She’s the professor’s assistant, hence my sudden interest in her. I have no clue who Rogers is but from what I’ve gathered so far, he seems like one tough asshole. Doesn’t hand out grades like Wilson did last year. I reckon an easy A will be hard to earn. I’m a fucking straight A student and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“And why is this of any particular interest to me?”

You sigh exasperatedly at his ignorance. “Do I really need to point it out to you?” You rub your temples and close your eyes as you continue speaking. “She’s got the hots for you!”

Clint’s expression changes from one of confusion to one of pleasure. “You want me to sleep with her, don’t you?”

You should feel at least a little bit bad, using Clint to help Wanda warm up to you just so you could pass a stupid course. Of course there’s more to it. “So, are you in or should I spill the beans to Sharon?”

“Don’t you dare.” Clint is glaring daggers at you and if looks could kill, you’d be roasted. “You do know that Sharon’s maiden name is Carter right? Then you should also know who she was married to.”

“Ah crap,” you mutter alongside a string of profanities. “She used to bang my new professor?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a slight nod of his head. “She used to be Sharon Rogers but bailed out on the marriage after her miscarriage. He didn’t take it so well but a little birdie told me that’s not the real reason their love shipwrecked.”

Intrigued, you inch closer to make sure you’re not mission a single detail of juicy gossip because God knows it’s all you live for these days. “Go on,” you encourage Clint who’s smiling smugly at the fact he knows something you don’t.

Beckoning you, he whispers lowly into your ear. “She used to be his assistant and when he tried to get rid of her, she threatened to tell the dean that he raped her. She even got pictures to prove it even though everybody knows she only took the job because she wanted to screw him. There’s also a little home movie or something on her cell phone that might be incriminating to Rogers. I’m telling you, that sex tape is the reason they tied the knot all of a sudden because let’s get real here, he can do so much better than Sharon.”

“Agreed. She’s got a stick up her ass that one.”

“Hey, I’m not finished yet,” Clint grins cheekily and you listen attentively. “According to my source who shall not be named,” he chuckles and even though you already know who his supplier of secrets is, you’re willing to give him this just to keep Clint happy. “So, they told me that the pregnancy wasn’t planned and he wanted her to get an abortion. She refused and ran to her sister’s house where she intended to stay until the baby was born. But you know, the guy’s got juice so she was forced to move back in and sit her days out in that golden cage he calls a house.”

The pieces of the puzzle are falling together right in front of you. “Fuck, Clint, are you freaking kidding me?”

“Oh no, Y/N, I’m most definitely not. He held her hostage and then kicked her out when she conveniently lost the baby.”

“That’s sick,” you confirm, obviously disgusted although you’re also mildly intrigued by the inner working of such a twisted mind. “I really don’t want to take this course, Clint,” you whine and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, tucking you reassuringly into his side.

“You’ll do fine. You’re gonna nail this shit.”

“I hate history,” you deadpan dryly. “And you know why.”

“Ok, well, you’re gonna have to pass regardless. Though you can’t keep hating history just because of him. But if you really cannot deal with this shit anymore, you can always drop out. You got Bucky and his daddy’s money to keep you warm and comfortable at night.”

“Hell no, Clint, I’m an independent woman and I’m going to get that freaking degree so I can at least do something with my life. I ain’t no man’s bitch.”

“That’s my girl, right there,” Clint chuckles proudly. “Now let’s get outta here, you have a lecture to attend and I have a girl to swoon.”


	2. Little monster part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First class, first time meeting with professor Rogers. An old friend returns and raises some questions.

Steve’s POV

She sauntered into class in a mini skirt and high heels, the most inappropriate as well as sexy outfit I could think of. As if she’d been meaning to taunt me from the start till the very end, she took a seat on the first row right in front of my desk. Of all the mistakes I’ve made in my life, Sharon Carter is my number one. I like a good chase but when a pretty and intelligent girl offers to buy me a drink, I’m not one to decline her affections.

We had an arrangement, we were our own version of friends with benefits and I had liked to keep it that way. So when the year came to a close and Sharon graduated, I expected to never see her again. That is, until that unfaithful day they assigned me a new assistant.

Look, I admit a huge deal of this mess is my own fault. None of it would’ve ever happened if I had just resisted her charms. She would’ve never have filmed or recorded the only sexual encounter we ever had during her time as my assistant. She would’ve never have used it against me to force my hand and put a ring around her finger All she wanted from me was my last name in order to climb up the social ladder.

And I let her because I didn’t want that girl to run her mouth. An affair with my assistant would’ve gotten me suspended, but an affair with my student would’ve cost me my career and I had unknowingly done both. So I married her but never touched her again. She didn’t seem to mind, until the day I found her room empty except for one simple note.

***

The first day of class

Whilst going through the list of names of the pupils that registered for my class this semester, I notice the odd one out almost instantly. Y/N Y/L/N. I don’t need to look at her student number to know that she’s one of the charity cases the faculty has asked me to take on and tutor on the regular. In fact, I have my first appointment with her tomorrow first thing in the morning. The dean, Tony Stark, was rather pressing about the whole Y/n matter, adamant that she’d stay in line. I wonder what she’s done that’s gotten him so on edge.

My eyes fall on her quaint appearance. She’s beautiful but an ordinary kind of beautiful, with her eyes as her most striking feature. I’ve seen her out and about a couple of times before, mostly surrounded by two guys of which I assume one must be her boyfriend. An intelligent girl like that, it just doesn’t seem like any guy would want to miss out on that. Other than these brief encounters from afar, I actually know nothing more about her.

Nevertheless, I clearly remember my dear friend Sam Wilson talking about her, when she was his student and still taking history courses. Boy, was he smitten with that girl. But word is she turned him down and never enrolled for another history class again, not even in the two years he’s been away. It seems a bit out of character to say the least, especially for a student like her. Something always seemed off about Sam’s sudden departure yet I never had the guts to approach him about it. He’s my pal, my partner in crime and you don’t question your best friend’s sincerity. There’s no doubt in my right mind that he hasn’t been completely honest with me. Yes, the circumstances might be a bit dubious, but I’m sure there’s an explanation for everything.

An impatient finger taps my desk a couple of times before I look up to meet those familiar brown eyes. “Speaking of the devil,” I mutter under my breath, smirking. “I was just thinking about you, man.”

Sam grins a little, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “Ain’t no getting’ rid of me yet, bro!”

We laugh heartily and shake hands. “Wilson, my friend, I see you’ve returned to the land of the living? How was the sabbatical? Managed to clear your head a bit?”

“Ah you know, it was alright,” he shrugs nonchalantly, brushing off my questions. “What are you up to these days, Stevie boy? Heard you’ve been taking in a couple strays?”

“Oh, yeah. They dumped a couple students in my class who won’t be able to graduate this year unless they pass. Some of them even need extra guidance, but not many. In fact, Y/N is one of them.”

His shoulders stiffen instantly at the mention of her name. Clearly he’s not over her just yet. “You had it bad, didn’t you?”

“Look, Steve,” Sam says softly, “I fell hard for her while I shouldn’t have. She was my student. You and I, we both know I’m not the kind of guy to go messing around with students. But she,” he cards his fingers through his hair and exhaling deeply, “she was different. But I came on to her too strong and she vowed to never speak to me again. Probably for the best.”

“Ah well, there will be other girls, Sam.” I give him a reassuring smile, trying the best I can to keep his mind occupied with other things other than Y/N.

The deal with Sam is that he falls in love way too quickly, losing his heart over and over again to girls who are either way out of his league or way beneath him. Agreed, Sam seemed pretty serious about her but Y/N is not the first student he’s “come on to too strong” and she certainly won’t be the last. The guy’s got one hell of a fucked up love life but then again, who am I to tell him to quit falling for the wrong girls? He’d just rub Sharon Carter right into my face.

“Right,” he chuckles, throwing a glance over his shoulder to the practically full aula. “I better get going. Professor Rogers, nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise, professor Wilson,” I reply, saluting him as he walks to the door and giving me the stink eye for acting so silly.

Shaking my head, I watch him disappear in a crowd of students before returning my attention to the task at hand. It’s then that my eyes land on Y/N again, sitting on the third row next to Sharon’s replacement, Wanda. I didn’t know they were friends but Wanda and I don’t know each other that well, so I’m not surprised. She prefers to keep to herself and I can’t blame her for that.

“Alright!” I gain the attention of most students rather quickly, my voice carrying across the vast space with ease. Effortlessly I fall back into my role as a professor, the summer break long forgotten about. “Welcome to History of Contemporary Art. Some of you might already know me from Early Modern History, History and Philosophy of Ancient Literature and Fundamentals of History.”

***

Y/N’s POV

“Fuck,” I exhale sharply as my eyes drink him in for the very first time. “I didn’t know professor Rogers was smokin’ hot!”

“Where have you been living all this time? Under a rock?,” she scoffs haughtily. I love her spunk but as soon as this class is over and done with and I don’t need her anymore, I’m never speaking to her again. “Most of the girls in this class only take it because of him. Before he got married, he was quite the eyecatcher but now that he’s divorced, he’s even more popular. Something about that is a serious turn-on.”

“No shit,” I reply with a couple more curse words.

Wanda gives me a pointed look and again I have to remind myself why I am friends with her in the first place. “When was the last time you set foot in a history class?”

You think it over, disappointed when you finally realise the answer. “Before professor Wilson went on his sabbatical.”

“So you’re not up to date on the latest changes,” she concludes, sighing exasperatedly. With a nod of her head in the professor’s direction, she continues. “Professor Rogers has always been a bit of a wild child but he’s a decent professor. His… indiscretions with Sharon Carter were unfortunate but all in all, he has never let anyone down in the past, so the faculty cleared his name. We all know Sharon isn’t as innocent as she appears to be but nobody can touch her without solid proof.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that.”

“Don’t trust everything you hear, not even if it’s from a friend,” she warns quickly, almost too quickly. “You never had to take much history classes, did you?” I shake my head, proud I managed to avoid such a burden even though it would’ve looked good on my record. “Grades high enough for you to skip a couple courses?” I mumble a yes, smirking at the fact she never got to do that and I obviously am the better student out of the two of us.

“Thought so. Which brings me to the question, why on earth are you taking this class then?”

“I told you already, Wanda. I spent a little too much time with my man, Bucky, neglecting my course work. My grades dropped. I need to pass or redo the entire year. No perks.”

She hums as she considers my answer, a contemplative frown knitting her brows together. “Seems like an okay deal to me. He’s tutoring you as well, I assume?”

“Yup,” I say, popping the ‘p’. I used to resent the idea of being tutored but now I’ve seen the gorgeous specimen that I’ll be tutored by, I don’t mind anymore. Still, no matter how good-looking he might be, I would never betray my Bucky like that. Cheating is not in my nature and especially not with a professor. There are so many other girls who want a piece of him, so let them have some.

“Well, if you need anything, just ask me. I like you, Y/N,” Wanda confesses sincerely, smiling softly at me with those pearly whites. “You’re obviously not swayed by his handsome face and you’ve got a pretty impressive record. I believe we’ll have lots of fun together.”

“Lots of fun indeed,” you mumble but Wanda’s unable to catch the sarcasm lacing your tone as professor Rogers suddenly addresses the crowd. His voice is masculine, very masculine and sends shivers running up and down your spine. Trying to stay immune to his charms will be much harder than anticipated.


	3. Little monster part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Clint meet up to discuss tactics. Pietro reveals something to Bucky and infuriaties him.

Sam’s POV – two years ago

I didn’t expect Tony Stark himself to walk in on us. About 30 minutes I was chatting up Y/N, asking her if she’d be interested in an academic career as my personal assistant. I might’ve suggested we could discuss it further in my office after class. Offered her a drink and then another, which she declined fiercely at first but eventually gave in after I had assured her nobody would ever hear a word about it from me. We discussed her potential and drank some more. Her cheeks were flushed with the alcohol, her pink lips so luscious and lustful. So I might’ve spiked her drink after only the first glass.

Don’t worry though, nothing ever happened. Thanks to Tony Stark.

Everything went off the deep end after he found out about my less than honourable intentions with Y/N. unwilling to let this kind of grotesque scandal get out of hand and blemish the reputation of the college and himself, Tony forced me to take a two-year sabbatical. The easy way out. But not for Y/N, who only spiralled into a massive black hole of self-destruction. She met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes and everybody knows that boy is no good, his father a corrupt cop and all that.

***

Y/N’s POV

Concentration is a bitch. When you need it the most, during let’s say a particularly boring class with an extremely attractive professor, it fails you completely. Luckily for you, Wanda’s notes are at your disposal. She’s dedicated, you must give her that. Her handwriting is cursive and elegant, matching her princess-like appearance. After class she waits for you to clear your desk and gives a final wave to professor Rogers before walking you out. You don’t notice how his eyes linger on your back longer than they should, but you do feel someone’s else presence.

“Hey Wanda!,” an unfamiliar voice calls out from across the hallway. Your head snaps into the direction of a fine-looking silver-haired stranger.

“Pietro! I didn’t know you had class on Tuesday!,” Wanda replies in an unusually chipper voice, hugging him tightly.

Pietro just shrugs, an adorable lopsided grin adorning his sharp features. “Is it against the law now to surprise my baby sister?”

So Pietro is Wanda’s brother, this should be interesting. He sure doesn’t look like her brother even though his demeanour appears alike. Cocky, confident and completely cuckoo. “Hi, my name is Y/N,” you introduce yourself when Pietro’s stormy grey eyes lock with yours.

“Y/N,” he almost purrs in a seductive voice, like his lips are dripping with honey and you’re the forbidden apple he longs to taste. “Pietro Maximoff, pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, I’d love to stick around,” Wanda announces suddenly, quirking an eyebrow at her brother when he does not pay her any attention, instead focusing only on you, making you feel very uneasy under his scrutinising gaze. “Professor Rogers wanted to go over the seminar slides again before the presentation. See you later,” Wanda says to her brother before turning to me, “And I’ll see you in class.”

“You seem like too nice a girl to be hanging around with my sister,” Pietro chuckles softly once Wanda is out of earshot. “She’s a handful, that one. Whereas you,” he leans in closer and whispers into your ear, “you seem like a sweet girl. Very sweet. Makes me wonder if you taste as sweet as you look.”

You gasp audibly at his blunt statement and he smirks triumphantly, softly pecking your cheek. “You’re adorable when you blush, babe. I wonder what else I can make you do… With my mouth, perhaps? Or would you prefer a different bodypart?”

Your reflexes are faster than your mind and before you know it, your hand collides with his cheek as you slap him in the middle of a busy hallway. Many heads turn to see what kind of drama is unfolding next but only a few actually stop to watch it. “Feisty,” Pietro hums as he rubs his cheek, a faint red mark already visible. “Bucky was right about you, Y/N. I can understand now what he sees in you.”

Bewildered, I let my guard drop. “Bucky?” You throw him a suspicious look. “How do you know my boyfriend. I’ve never seen you around before.”

“That’s because we’re not exactly friends, babe.”

You groan loudly at the nickname. “I’m not your babe, so quit it.”

He holds up his hands in mock defence, a cocky smile lifting the corners of his lips upwards. He looks awfully smug, something he has in common with Bucky. “Bucky just occasionally needs me to fix something for him, that doesn’t make us friends though.”

“I see,” I reply dryly, clicking my tongue. Looking down on my watch, I realise I’m already running late for my lunch date with Clint. “Shit. Gotta go, Pietro,” you mumble quickly by means of a goodbye. “I hope I’ll never have to run into you again.”

“Oh, I bet you will, babe,” he calls after you and you sigh inwardly. Yet another arrogant fucker to take into account.

You make it at the cafeteria just in time, arriving only seconds after Clint has taken a seat at your usual lunch spot. A little out of breath, you slide into the seat next to him. “Hi, Clint.”

“You didn’t have to rush just for me, Y/N. I would’ve survived 5 minutes all by myself,” Clint jokes as he playfully pokes your side.

You hum in agreement, taking out your lunch box and aggressively taking a huge bite from your tuna sandwich. “Looks like someone’s hungry and maybe a little frustrated? What happened, Y/N?”

Rolling your eyes at your best friend, you start to explain that professor Rogers is anything but a greying, white male with a moustache like you had imagined he’d be. Instead you’re now confronted with a gloriously chiselled individual, baby blue puppy dog eyes and golden retriever hair. “Why did nobody warn me about that? He’s seriously a health hazard! I bet all the girls have a heart attack once they lay eyes on him!”

Clint snorts and belts out in laughter. “Jesus, Y/N. Don’t say that to Bucky, you’ll give him a heart attack as well!”

“I’m being serious here, Clint!,” you shoot back in a menacing tone. “He shouldn’t be allowed to be a professor in the first place with how good he looks. And Bucky’s pride can take a hit.”

“Be grateful that you have Rogers and not Wilson again, Y/N. You don’t want Wilson to try anything with you a second time.”

“I just feel like the world is against me,” you pout sadly, sighing at the memory of Sam. “I was a damn fool to ever let him use me. But I learnt my lesson and no one will ever use me like that again.”

“So what happened after class? You getting along with Wanda?,” Clint inquires casually, smoothly transitioning to a safer topic of conversation. He’s been wooing Wanda for a week straight now and still without any progress. It’s like she’s not even interested at all while she definitely was when you met up with her over coffee. She’s head over heels for Clint, you’re sure of it. She’s just playing hard to get.

“Her brother, Pietro, is what happened after class,” you scoff indignantly. “Gives Buck a run for his money. Such an asshole.”

“Yeah, I know Pietro,” Clint murmurs before taking a sip from his water bottle. “He’s overly self-possessed but he’s got a good heart. Has a tendency to get into trouble, too.”

“Well, if he calls me babe again I’m going to cut his balls off.”

Again Clint erupts in a hearty fit of laughter, clutching his hand over his heart as the merry sound fills your ears. “Pietro’s had a thing for you since first year, did you know that? He’s been pining over you for that long, Y/N.”

“He called me sweet. Said he wanted to taste me,” you discuss with Clint, disgust seeping through.

“If I remember it correctly, Bucky called you a great pussy when you two first met.”

“Yeah and I kicked him in the nuts for it as well. Kept him coming back to me, still does.”

Clint chuckles, recalling how hard you made Bucky work before you’d let him take you out on a date. He even showed up at your place unannounced to make you breakfast just because he wanted to win you over that much. He was absolutely smitten and frankly, so were you. You just enjoyed making him sweat.

“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Clint finishes up on his sandwich and scrolls through his phone, looking for the invitation he received earlier that day. “You fancy going with me to that party Thor invited me to?”

He shows you the invite and you decline politely. “Nah, I think I’m just going to crash at Maria’s tonight and get a good night sleep. Was thinking of going to Bucky’s instead but I wanna be fresh and fruity for professor Rogers. Better make a good first impression.”

Clint nods, putting his phone away. “You think I should ask Wanda then?”

“You can. Let’s see if she takes the bait but I wouldn’t count too much on it.”

“You’re probably right,” he confirms gloomily. Something in me just breaks for Clint upon seeing his distraught expression. I know how much he needs the validation of a pretty girl after Nat left him. To have Wanda turn him down so coldly must hurt more than I can imagine at this point. I still cannot fathom why Wanda would ever give him the cold shoulder if what she says is true and she’s been hooked on him ever since the fall ball. She didn’t lie, did she?

“Hey,” I whisper, placing my hand on his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, once this class is over I won’t need her anymore. We’ll find you a nice piece of ass in no time.”

***

Bucky’s POV

“So how did she react?”

“She smacked me, man.”

Bucky gives Pietro an amused look. “She smacked you?” He shakes his head, chuckling darkly. “I love that girl so much.”

“And she obviously loves you too. Otherwise she would’ve taken me up on my offer,” Pietro adds with a small smirk.

“So what else have you found out?”

“I didn’t find much dirt on Wilson, if that’s what you’re asking. Everybody’s lips are sealed.”

Bucky grumbles, pouring himself a glass of bourbon and offering Pietro one as well which he gladly accepts. “I need to know what he did to my girl, Pietro. Ever since he came back she’s been on edge. And we both know what kind of effect that other punk, professor Rogers, has on the opposite sex.”

Pietro chokes on his drink. “Not just on the opposite sex, Buck. I bet a lot of guys want his cock, too.”

“You suddenly switched sides, pal?,” Bucky jokes back, licking his lips and grinning ferally as he sees Pietro change colour, looking more like a tomato than an actual human being.

“God, no,” he stammers innocently. “Just making an observation.”

“Ah,” Bucky hums cheekily, clearly recalling Pietro boasting about his threesome with another guy and his now ex-girlfriend just a couple weeks ago. Poor Pietro’s relationship didn’t survive that much action though, since his gal couldn’t deal with the morning after and blamed Pietro for it.

“Buck? You know I’m on your side, right?” Pietro inquires gingerly, ruffling a hand through his short and messy silver curls. “You know I would never do anything to, you know, sabotage you, right?”

“Just tell me already. What have you done now?,” Bucky urges less than amused, nursing a now empty glass.

Putting down his drink and looking down at his feet, Pietro stuffs his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. “I might’ve mentioned to Wanda that you wanted to fuck her.”

Bucky slams the glass onto the table and it shatters on impact, a couple stray shards stuck in the palm of his hand. He curses loudly, reaching for a handkerchief to stop the bleeding. “You piece of shit!,” he screams at Pietro. “You know I’m with Y/N! I’d never cheat on her unless she cheated on me first!”

“Bro, I know. Trust me, I know,” he assures Bucky who doesn’t seem all too convinced by his promise. “But you know how Wanda can be. She just kept pushing and pushing until I had said too much and couldn’t take it back.”

“So you just told her I’d like to bang her, is that it?!” Shaking his head in disbelief, Bucky pulls out the shards one by one, wincing and groaning at the sting of pain going through his veins. The cuts run deep and Y/N will most likely want to know how he got them. Gotta find a good excuse for that later on.

He points a stern finger at the silver-haired menace. “You speak one more word about my fantasies to your sister and you’re dead to me. Who do you think will pay off your college debts then, huh?” Rubbing his temples after binding off his hand, Bucky turns away from Pietro and instead focuses on the screen of his cell phone lighting up. The caller ID reads Y/N and he quickly answers it.

“Hey sweetheart, why are you calling me? Is there something wrong?”

Pietro sees an opportunity to take his exit but Bucky reprimands him rapidly before he can do so. “Doll, have a nice time at Maria’s, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you so much, baby.”

Bucky ends the call and all of a sudden he throws his phone at Pietro. The device lands on the couch behind him yet missed Pietro by an inch. “If you ever so much as blink an eye at Y/N again, I will kill you with my bare hands, understood?” Pietro nods immediately. “And that sister of yours, Wanda… I was drunk off my ass when I confided in you. I would never hurt Y/N like that, I’d never screw her over. Everything I said, it meant nothing.”

“Nothing,” Pietro mimics and with a wave of Bucky’s hand he scoots off.


	4. Little monster part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N and professor Rogers have their first meeting. Steve finds himself aligning with a surprising ally.

Y/N’s POV

“Good morning, Y/N. I’m glad you could make it,” he chuckles lightly, soft blue eyes watching me intently. “Before we get started on the course material for this week, I’d like to talk to you about something, something I’d like to bring to your attention. If you’re not comfortable about working with me after this, I completely understand.”

He clears his throat, waiting for you to speak but you don’t even bat an eye, leaving the professor with an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air pulled taut. The truth behind your lack of response is that your mind is elsewhere, in another dimension where you’re not in a relationship with Bucky and he’s not your superior.

“I wanted to quit teaching after the whole Sharon debacle, but the university would not let me. They need to keep an eye on me, keep me in line and the only way they can do that is by keeping me on as a professor. On a tight leash, so to speak.”

Absentmindedly you play with the hem of your shirt, thinking what it would be like if he tore it from your body. You register his words, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care. When you called Bucky last night, something was off about him. Sure, he ended the phone call with an I love you, just like always. But there was somebody there with him, presumably in his office back at the mansion. Was it Pietro? Were the rumours about Bucky wanting to have sex with Wanda true?

Professor Rogers comes back into your focus when he taps his desk impatiently, having taken notice of your mental absence. “So Y/N, believe me when I say that I’d rather live out the rest of my days in the countryside as a farmer than being judged for something I didn’t do on a daily basis.”

He looks away yet your eyes remain on him, levelling him up as a way of silencing the thunder inside your heart. He’s attractive but not in the same way as Bucky. This man is agile in his appearance, elegant in his poise and he most certainly looks like he can rip a log in half. Bucky, on the other hand, he is all muscle and a soft core. A little rough around the edges from time to time. Not to mention his thick thighs that make for excellent rides…

“You see, this is a trial. I’m on trial. They want to see if I can keep it in my pants and unfortunately you’re somehow caught in the middle. My sincere apologies, Y/N,” Steve finishes his monologue, gauging your reaction like a hawk stalks its prey.

“Don’t apologise when we’re obviously both on trial here.” He shoots you a confused look and you heavy out a dry laugh. “Ask your friend professor Wilson for his version of what happened after we conclude our meeting. But I can tell you one thing, if they want to know if you can keep it in your pants, they also want to know if I didn’t do anything to provoke you. If Stark hadn’t walked in on Sam with his pants down, trying to lift a half-conscious girl onto his desk… Who knows what would’ve happened.”

He swallows thickly, discomfort etched onto his face. The fact that disclosing your own reasons for your indifference seems like an easy thing for you to do, feeds his curiosity about you even more. “You see, students can often be little monsters with big mouths. They always complain. But in my experience, professors can be little monsters too. Little monsters with big reputations. Big mouths are more easily silenced, that much is true. But professor Rogers, you and me both know that big reputations are easier to kill than big mouths.”

He sits back in his chair, his expression blank and all signs of distress vanished into thin air. “Miss Y/L/N, please call me Steve. I believe we will get along just fine.”

It’s too early to wake up but you can’t sleep either. Your lover is snoring next to you, his right arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders while the other supports his head. Prying his arm away from you as to make an easy escape and avoiding waking him up as well, you slip off the bed and grab his discarded shirt on the way to the kitchen. You’re not hungry but you’ve got to do something to kill the time. So you decide to make yourself a club sandwich. At 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning.

“You’re up awfully early.” His groggy, gravelly voice falls like a symphony to your eager ears.

“I know,” you say with a soft sigh. His arms lock around your waist as he pulls your back flush to his chest, nuzzling his scruffy face in the nape of your neck, pecking your sweet spot. Turning your head, you kiss his temple and inhale the scent of his shampoo. He’s a health freak and the total opposite of you, but that didn’t keep you from offering him a taste of something sweet.

“Can I seduce you back to bed, babe?,” he asks innocently, his nose running up your neck and his lips suckling tenderly on your earlobe.

You shake your head, your voice still a little strained from last night. “I set the alarm for six a.m. anyway, so what’s another hour?”

“It’s another hour spent between the sheets, with me.”

“Steve…,” you complain but he quickly spins you around and crashes his lips to you, cutting off any further argument you could’ve provided him with. You rest your case and melt into him, his tongue effortlessly tangling with yours as his hands dance to your hips. With ease he lifts you up and as if on cue, your legs wrap around his slim waist.

“That’s professor Rogers for you, Y/N,” he chastises playfully, moaning when you capture his bottom lip between your teeth, looking at him through hooded eyelids.

He throws you back on the bed and climbs on top of you, nudging your legs apart with his knee to allow him to settle between them. He kisses you softly at first before the kisses become more heated, more needy and passionate. Steve’s about to lift up your shirt, expose your soft body to his lust blown pupils when…

“Y/N Y/L/N, can you give me two examples, please?”

Wanda nudges your side with her elbow, tearing you away from more pleasurable thoughts. She slips you a small piece of paper with the two examples to help you out. You look back and forth between her and the substitute teacher who’s leading today’s seminar instead of professor Rogers, your mind still a bit fuzzy from your hot daydream. Rumour has it professor Rogers called in sick, but rumour also has it that he got laid yesterday. Which one it is, you’re about to find out once you get the chance to ask Wanda about it. So you provide the teaching assistant with a satisfactory reply like any good student would. She doesn’t look in your direction again until class is over and Wanda albeit drags you outside.

“You’ve got to be on top of this class, Y/N! You were spacing out again, weren’t you?” She sighs in frustration when you look back at her and sheepishly shrug. “God, I’m so done helping you pass.”

“Wanda, come on! You know I need all the help I can get!”

She turns to face you, dramatically spinning on the balls of her feet. “Y/N Y/L/N. I don’t care anymore. I went to see professor Rogers on your behalf but if you can’t even pay attention in class, then I’m not going to stick out my neck for you anymore!”

Wanda storms off, leaving you surrounded by unfamiliar faces and an abundance of raging thoughts. You can’t tell her you’ve been having sexually suggestive dreams about professor Rogers ever since your first meeting with him. You can’t trust her because she’s just as much an object of Bucky’s affections as you are and you want to make sure he never acts on his desires. You can’t do that if you’re caught with Steve’s hand in your panties.

***

Steve’s POV

“She’s a little minx, that one,” I confess heavily, as if the words escaping my mind will somehow lessen the burden that comes with resisting her effortless charm and wit.

“You don’t have to tell me. Not just any woman sleeps around with Bucky Barnes,” Wanda responds, pursing her lips and blowing some smoke from her cigarette. “Does she know how bad you want her?”

She perches her feet on my desk and I shoot her a dirty look. “No, of course not. It would be like poking a hornet’s nest, asking another one of my students to get on her knees for me. Imagine all the trouble it could get me into.” Then again, she might be worth it, Steve thinks to himself. But Wanda doesn’t need to know that he gets hard just thinking about Y/N, that he gets off on seeing her in his lectures. “So how’s it going with that Barton kid? I know Y/N is trying to set you up with him.”

Smiling disapprovingly, she shakes her head. “Don’t try to change the subject, Rogers.” Wanda takes a long drag from her cigarette again, locking eyes with me and winking. “If you must know… Yes, she’s trying to set me up with Barton. It isn’t working. I’m more interested in Barnes.”

“Barnes is off-limits, miss Maximoff,” I warn her quickly, standing up abruptly and throwing her feet off my desk. “As long as Y/N is dating him anyway.” Pacing back and forth, I contemplate our options. “God, Wanda, I want to make her mine but I can’t.”

“You do know I only came to you so you’d write me a good recommendation and support my academic career?” I nod softly, encouraging her to state her point. “Well, I might be willing to give her a push in the right direction… In exchange for that other thing we talked about earlier.”

A deep sigh rumbles through me and as I exhale languidly, Wanda gets up from her seat and sways towards me, mischief written all over her face. “You want to fuck her and I want to fuck over Tony Stark. I know he’s your superior and all, but really, does it make any difference? He screwed both of us over.”

I place my hands on her hips, pulling her towards her and spinning us around so her back hits the wall. She looks so small compared to my tall form and as I tower over her, my expression dark and menacing, the grad student swallows thickly. “On one condition.”

“You name it,” she whispers, trying her best to press into the wall so she doesn’t have to touch me.

“You burn it, all of it. All the pictures. Nobody benefits from seeing your pretty little cunt on the frontpage of the university newspaper. Nobody benefits from seeing me punishing you like the disobedient little school girl you are. Your brother would be horrified but I bet Stark would have a field day. So burn it.”

“O-Okay” Wanda squeaks softly and I release her, chuckling darkly when I see the small red imprints my fingers have left on her arms. She flees my office without another word and even though I realise I’ve gone too far, that I’ve let my darkness take over for too long, there’s a part of me that revels in the fact I still have that kind of power over women.


	5. Little monster part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda’s loyalties are tested and Steve has a change of heart.

Wanda’s POV

I’m sitting in the cafeteria, minding my own business and sharing a cigarette with my brother, when I see her strutting over to me. Y/N fucking Y/L/N. She’s wearing a sexy, deep red dress, turning all the heads of all the boys, with her high heels and that shy, innocent smile. When she sits down in front of me, I catch Pietro subtly adjusting the growing bulge in his pants. Her sweet perfume is overwhelming and makes me gag but Pietro seems to take a fancy to it. He’s always had a soft spot for Y/N.

“Hi, Wanda,” she greets me in a chipper voice. She then turns to Pietro and her smile falters, a hard look glazing over her eyes. “Pietro,” she acknowledges him shortly before returning her undivided attention back to me. “Wanda, I was hoping I’d catch you here. I wanna apologise to you. I’m so sorry about yesterday.”

She sounds sincere and maybe she is, but with Y/N you can never be sure. I might know little about her but in the short while I’ve spent studying her and her squad, I have come to a couple realisations. She likes to scheme and invent all these little intrigues but they’re all just that, little. She doesn’t see what’s going on, she doesn’t see the bigger picture and it’s what makes her a vulnerable yet easy target. For both Rogers as well as me.

Pietro casually kinks an eyebrow at me, having taken the hint that his presence is no longer welcome. “See ya later, sis,” he says while handing me the rest of the cigarette. “Y/N, always good to see you, too.”

My brother speeds off to his next class and once he’s out of earshot, I continue my conversation with Y/N. “Hey Y/N. No need for apologies. I was a little hard on you but it’s all good now.”

Her face lights up at my dismissal of her apology and she claps her hands in happiness like a little child. “You’re the best.”

“So when do you have your next appointment with professor Rogers?”

Y/N looks down at her watch, saying “In exactly one hour and 38 minutes. Wait, make that 37 minutes now.”

I almost choke on my tea, just about avoiding spitting it all across the table and onto that pretty little number she’s wearing. “You’re going to your seminar dressed like that?,” I gasp in disbelief, gesturing to her exposed cleavage. Looking at me curiously, she turns her head to the side as to contemplate whether or not I’m serious. “You look like you’re dressed for a hot date or something,” I clarify as I wave my hand and gesture towards her chosen attire.

No matter the promise I made to Steve to give Y/N a kind nudge in his direction, I don’t want the poor creature to make it too easy on me. She’s not a nice person but she isn’t a bad person either, making this my hardest dilemma up until now. I had no problem screwing my superior for a few extra perks, all modesty thrown out of the window when I paid some poor freshman (I think Peter Parker was his name but now I’m not sure anymore) to take a couple pics as leverage. I didn’t mind the little punk saw my naked ass in the making of these scandalous photographs because what I did care about was bringing down the men who are responsible.

Me and my brother have made a pact together, that we would slowly but surely weasel our way into the lives of the men that had, some unwillingly and some unknowingly and some deliberately, destroyed lives. Tony Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were the top three names on that list. Pietro wanted to make quick work of Barnes but it has proven to be quite the challenge, so while he was working his way into the inner circle of Barnes’ mob business, I tried my best tricks on professor Rogers. This was necessary to work my way up to Stark, the sick fuck that’s going to get what he deserves one way or another.

Poor Y/N is just getting in the way of that goal.

“Well, yes, I am,” she confirms my suspicions.

“Bucky is taking me to that new restaurant that opened a few nights ago. Said he wanted to talk to me about something. Ask me something.”

Again I have to refrain myself from spilling my drink. He’s going to ask her something. I can’t help but feel my heart sink a little but not because I’m in love with that selfish prick. Although I do like the thought of getting thoroughly fucked by Bucky Barnes, other than pure, unadulterated lust I have no other feelings for the guy. Nevertheless, Barnes is still the lesser of two evils and I do believe he actually, genuinely loves Y/N.

She leans in closer, beckoning me to come closer as well. “I think he might propose to me, Wanda,” Y/N whispers carefully, apparently not wanting to jinx the entire thing.

“Are you going to say yes?” is the only question on my mind. She bites her lower lip, thinking it over. Obviously, her first response is yes. She would die for her fella, that much is true. But she’s still very young and flourishing. Y/N can’t get any man she pleases with just the blink of an eye, she’s not that attractive and frankly, not that kind of girl as well. She has her modesty and only goes all out whenever she’s trying to impress Bucky. She knows her value, I must at least give her that much.

“I am,” she nods softly, smiling to herself at the prospect of becoming Bucky’s wife. It sickens me how happy she is. But what I despise the most about her is that she’s willing to marry Barnes and have an affair with Rogers.

I need to get out of there, I need to change gears. “I gotta go, babe.”

She looks disappointed that I can’t stay any longer but she won’t have to wait much longer before her appointment with professor Rogers. I wonder if he’s going to bend her over his desk this time or be able to keep his dick in his pants for one more session. In any case, that dress she’s wearing won’t help his case.

***

Y/N’s POV

What I told Wanda wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the truth either. Bucky is indeed going to ask me something but no way is he going to propose. That was all just a ruse to keep her from stealing my man away from me.

The next hour passes quickly and soon I find myself knocking on the door of professor Rogers’ office. I might’ve worn this dress on purpose and not just for my date with Buck. After this I still have another hour or two before he’s picking me up which is enough to switch outfits and touch up my make-up. I might’ve just picked out this dress because I saw him wear a Henley in the exact same colour yesterday when I accidentally bumped into him in the hallway. Though nothing happened, just an awkward exchange of looks and smiles and sideway glances.

So it’s no surprise that upon entering his office, his breath hitches in his throat. Believe me, I take no pleasure in riling up my superiors but this is for a good cause. I need to fucking pass this course. I have to. I want to graduate and have a life with Bucky, I can’t exactly make that happen when I’m falling behind on everything that isn’t related to Bucky and sex with Bucky.

“Y/N.” My name is a low growl elicited from the back of his throat, rumbling all through his broad chest, his firm and bulging muscles rippling as he turns his gaze and body away from the window and sits back down in his desk chair, gesturing for me to take a seat as well. “How are you today?” The questions comes out a little strained and even though is expression is fairly neutral, he’s still so on edge.

Involuntarily you smirk, taking pleasure in the thought of the effect you can have on a man you can never have and who can never have you. “I’m good, professor. Thank you for asking.”

He coughs awkwardly. “Let’s pick up where we left off last time, is that okay?”

“More than okay,” you mimic in an innocent tone, riling him up even more with those big doe eyes you give Bucky whenever you want to make love again. But this time it’s professor Rogers’ that’s on the receiving end of your preferred secret weapon, just not for the same reason. You don’t want him to fuck you. You want him to think about fucking you and then give you good grades because he believes you’ll fuck him when he does.

“So Y/N, I’m going to quiz you just like last time. Ready?”

You nod, fairly certain you’re going to ace his questions again. He goes easy on you, you know that and you don’t mind. Yes, you wished he would make it a little harder on you because the exam isn’t going to be as easy too. But no, you don’t exactly mind because it makes a good impression and you’re currently all about leaving the right impression.

He goes through the pages, skimming the words and searching for the right question to start with. His lips curl upwards into a devilish grin when he finally finds what he’s looking for. Or maybe you should say when he doesn’t find what he isn’t looking for, his baby blues scanning yours with a smugness you haven’t encountered in him before.

“I trust you know by now that I have no intention of failing you on my course.” Steve closes the book and stands up, opting to sit on the corner of his desk instead. You have now a perfect view of his erection and because he doesn’t feel the immediate need to cover it up, you suspect that’s exactly the point. “So I see no point in keeping this up.”

“Y/N,” he drawls out your name syllable by syllable, emphasising your name as if it’s his favourite dessert in the whole wide world. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You purse your lips, unsure of how to react but not willing to give that away. “I think I do.”

“As you are well aware of, I’m painfully hard. I’m not asking you to suck me off. I’m also not asking you to give me your permission to fuck you senseless. I’m not stupid.”

He pauses. He does not do so in hesitation or contemplation, rather to figure out your thoughts on what he’s going to propose next.

“You’re not wearing the most appropriate outfit for our meeting, so I suggest you come back next week wearing your usual blue jeans and sweater. You are excused. I need to will this away,” he concludes, palming himself through his black jeans.

There’s no denying the disappointment that flashes before your eyes, crossing over your face like a speed train and not going unnoticed by your professor.

“Y/N,” he tries again. “I’m not speaking in tongues here. Please leave. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so open about it”, you finally disclose, playing with the hem of your dress. “I wasn’t expecting you to admit you’d like to fuck me.”

“If I’m not open about it, I’m risking a whole lot more than my career or my reputation. I don’t want a lawsuit. Fucking you is not worth it.”

It stings more than you expected, Steve’s rejection. But you’re not one to easily admit your defeat. “I guess that means we’re done here. I’ll see you next week.”

You stand up with the intentions of leaving the room like he had asked you to. Instead, his fingers unexpectedly lace around your elbow to keep you from doing just that. Your back is pulled flush against his chest, much like the dream you had just a few days ago. His breath is hot on your ear, his cock pressing into the small of your back. “We are done, Y/N. You passed the course. Congratulations.” His free hand slides up your thigh and eventually rests on your hip, having hiked up your dress around your middle.

Pinching your ass cheek, his lips trailing small but soft butterfly kisses down your neck, he makes it very clear you’re not leaving until he explicitly states so. “I like you, Y/N, I’m not going to lie. And maybe when you’re done with Barnes and you’re no longer my student, we can have some mind-blowing sex.”

Shivers run up and down your spine as he runs his hand over the smooth skin of your ass, toying with your panties. “So we’re done here,” he breathes against your skin when you fail to respond. “Don’t come to my lectures and certainly don’t come to my office anymore.”

“Thank you, professor Rogers,” you reply frailly.

“I can’t fuck you, Y/N,” Steve whispers before releasing you. “I can’t fuck you,” he repeats, not to you but to himself. You stumble and nearly trip over your own feet but eventually make it to the door, turning the door knob with trembling hands.

You throw one last look over your shoulder before taking your exit. “Maybe fucking you isn’t worth the risk of blowing up my relationship with Bucky,” you finally speak up. “I’m not a monster. I can do that to him.”

“Oh Y/N,” he murmurs under his breath when you close the door behind you. “We’re all little monsters.”


	6. Little monster part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Steve’s POV of the same encounter as described in the previous part

The college garden is beautiful this season, but not beautiful enough to distract me completely. My thoughts keep wandering to my most recent encounter with Y/N. Yesterday I passed her in the hallway on my way back from class and to my meeting with none other than the dean, Tony Stark. She looked preppy with her plaid skirt and white blouse, her hair in a messy bun and her arms holding her textbooks close to her chest. She looked like the perfect student, a dedicated student ready for class. She seems like the perfect student to the outside world. If only they knew the whirlwind that chases her on the inside.

There’s a knock on my door and I know this perfect student has arrived. Still with my back facing the door, I call for her to enter. The door creaks open and soon after falls back into the lock, her footsteps revealing her path towards me. I do not turn around nor acknowledge her until she stops right in front of my desk. When my eyes do fall on her, I swallow thickly as I forget what I was going to say. Her dress is skimpy and her make-up is flawless, her hair falling gracefully over her shoulders and down her back. Licking my lips at the sight of her slightly exposed cleavage, I see her smirking from the corner of my eye.

“Y/N,” I greet her, my voice deeper than usual as I refrain myself from releasing a primal groan. My darker side is fighting its way to the surface and all I want to do is wipe that innocent look off her face while stripping her of her clothes and pushing her up against the wall.

“How are you today?,” I ask, seemingly unnerved by my inner turmoil.

We do not fall into an easy conversation like in our previous sessions. Her smile is a little less genuine, hinting she’s wearing this dress just to seduce me. For a brief moment I wonder if Stark set her up to this but then again, Y/N comes from a middle class family with good money. Even if she was having some money troubles, she always has Bucky to give her the money she might owe to Stark.

No, her heels are a little higher than usual but not as high as Wanda’s. And her entire outfit accentuates her curves more than usual. She does not have Sharon’s endless legs nor does she own her sexuality to the same extent as both Sharon and Wanda do. But she does have charm and that charm might save her today.

“I’m good, professor. Thank you for asking.”

I clear my throat, taking a seat opposite her. “Let’s pick up where we left off last time, is that okay?”

“More than okay,” she confirms in a feather-light voice. By now my cock is twitching in my trousers, begging me to bend her over my desk and slam into her, setting a punishing pace for her teasing tone and erotic allusions.

“So Y/N, I’m going to quiz you just like last time. Ready?”

The textbook is right in front of me but I have no intention of actually testing her knowledge of it. She know this, she knows I’m just playing with her. All these easy questions, all these hours spent in my office in the utmost suspense. I am not quizzing her, I am testing her just like she is testing me. The same way Stark is testing us both. This game has been played so well even the players cannot distinguish between all parties involved. Who is playing who now? I honestly don’t know.

“I trust you know by now that I have no intention of failing you on my course.” I close the book and she looks up from her lap, surprised. As I grin at her, her discomfort seems to grow as well as her confidence. She is obviously torn between two options, forgetting to take into account her third and most attractive option. She can always leave, but she simply does not want to.

“So I see no point in keeping this up.” I stand up and move to sit on the edge of my desk, my crotch tactically positioned in her line of sight.

“Y/N,” I drawl out your name syllable by syllable, emphasising it as if it’s my favourite dessert in the whole wide world. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She purses her lips, still plotting, still contemplating her two options while completely disregarding the third. “I think I do.”

“As you are well aware of, I’m painfully hard. I’m not asking you to suck me off. I’m also not asking you to give me your permission to fuck you senseless. I’m not stupid.”

Her eyes widen and I trust she has finally realised her third option. I leave a dramatic pause, if I may say so myself. There’s no sign of hesitation to be found in my expression, but there are signs of uneasiness and maybe a tad of disappointment to be spotted in hers. I keep the silence going just to taunt her, to gauge her reaction. Her first option is to call me a pervert and report me to the campus police. Her second option is to throw herself at me, granting my wish of fucking her. Her third option, as I already mentioned before, is to leave and never come back.

“You’re not wearing the most appropriate outfit for our meeting, so I suggest you come back next week wearing your usual blue jeans and sweater. You are excused. I need to will this away,” I conclude, palming myself through my black jeans to relieve at least some part of the tension coursing through my veins. I cannot take it any longer, I need her out of here. For her own good.

“Y/N,” I try again, “I’m not speaking in tongues here. Please leave. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so open about it”, she eventually pipes up, playing with the hem of her dress. “I wasn’t expecting you to admit you’d like to fuck me.”

“If I’m not open about it, I’m risking a whole lot more than my career or my reputation. I don’t want a lawsuit. Fucking you is not worth it.”

Her voice has run dry, the cracks in her facade starting to show. “I guess that means we’re done here. I’ll see you next week.”

She stands up with the intention of leaving the room like I instructed her to do. I need to let her go but in a moment of weakness, a moment of doubt, my body has an opinion of its own. Can I let her slip away this easily? Of course I can’t.

My fingers wrap around her elbow to keep her from creating more distance between us. Pulling her back flush against my chest, I feel her body heath radiating in thick waves off her. My lips are drawn to her neck and I give her a feel of the effect she has on me, my cock pressing into the small of her back. “We are done, Y/N. You passed the course. Congratulations.”

My free hand slides up her thigh and rests on her hip, having hiked up her skimpy dress around her middle. Pinching her ass cheek, my lips trail small but soft butterfly kisses down her neck. “I like you, Y/N, I’m not going to lie. And maybe when you’re done with Barnes and you’re no longer my student, we can have some mind-blowing sex.”

Running my hand over the smooth skin of her ass, I hook them around the hem of her lace panties. “So we’re done here,” I exhale deeply when she does not reply. Y/N is a statue made of clay, compliant under the touch of the artist. She yields to my request and she’d probably yield to all my requests if I would indulge myself with the pleasure of making love to her. But I do not wish to take advantage of her. “Don’t come to my lectures and certainly don’t come to my office anymore.”

“Thank you, professor Rogers,” she breathes out slowly.

“I can’t fuck you, Y/N,” I clarify before releasing her from my hold. “I can’t fuck you,” I stress, not necessarily to her but more to myself. I can’t involve her in the mess I made for myself. She is not… one of them. She’s not like Wanda or Sharon. Sam has already mistaken her for one of them once so she does not need to be mistaken twice.

She rushes towards the door, nearly tripping over her own feet. Her hand falls onto the door knob but instead of opening the door immediately and slipping away from my office, she stills her actions and turns to face me again. “Maybe fucking you isn’t worth the risk of blowing up my relationship with Bucky,” she tells me in all honesty. “I’m not a monster. I can’t do that to him.”

These are the last words Y/N spoke to me before she vanishes into the afternoon. “Oh Y/N,” I mutter under my breath, nervously carding my fingers through my hair. “It doesn’t matter what we say or do, deep down we’re all little monsters.”


	7. Little monster part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a journalist, Natasha has encountered many shocking stories and believes she’s heard and seen it all. Until now.

Natasha’s POV

Sitting in front of me is my source, my informant. It’s 9 p.m. and we’re at the mansion. My husband has a late night at the office and my son-in-law, Bucky, is out on a dinner date with his girlfriend Y/N. I don’t expect anyone to come home anytime soon, creating the perfect scenery for tonight’s clandestine interview. And even though he doesn’t strike me as the chatty type, the tall man shows no signs of anxiety or nervousness. He’s got his hands folded in his lap, a signed agreement of confidentiality in front of him. As he clears his throat, our eyes meet and I detect a brief moment of insecurity flashing by. Maybe he isn’t as stoic as he appears to be.

“So how do we do this? I tell you my story and you publish it?”

A couple months ago, I was contacted by an employee and colleague of Tony Stark. This person claimed to have secret information that would be of interest to me. At first, I was sceptical. Just because I’m a journalist doesn’t mean that every little household scandal is going to be the next big thing. But then he provided me with all the proof I needed to turn my judgement around.

I nod in agreement. “I stand by what I promised. Your name will not be mentioned.”

“Good, good,” he hums softly, pushing the paper towards me, his fingertips playing with the pen before he hands it to me as well. A sign of hesitation.

“Before we get started,” I continue in a steady tone, “Do you have any more questions?”

I’m giving him an out, because if we’re going to do this, he has to be all in. There cannot be any drawbacks, any false promises and then having him back out on me at the very last moment.

“No. no, I don’t have any questions. I just gotta start talking or I might never speak up.”

“Okay, I’m listening,” I say as I take my laptop, the screen lighting up and displaying a rough outline of all the information I’ve gathered so far. “The floor is yours.”

With a long, strong exhale, he starts off his story. “Tony Stark is a pimp,” he rushes out abruptly.

“That’s quite the accusation.” The words slip past my lips before I can think twice about it. But the comment doesn’t throw him off, on the contrary, it only spurs him on.

“He takes advantage of female and male students who are in debt and cannot pay off their college tuition fees. In exchange for a reduced tuition fee, they have to offer certain services to certain individuals on and off campus. I have learnt of some identities, most of them who wish to remain anonymous.”

“But they know?,” I inquire as I rummage through the pictures and the files scattered across my desk. “I mean, they know you’re here? Talking to me?”

“Yes, they do,” he confirms immediately, carding his fingers through his short hair.

“So according to what I’ve dug up,” I say as I fish out a picture of a blonde woman and show it to him, “the first person to shed some light on the matter is Sharon Carter.”

He gives me a small but sad smile as he looks at the photograph. “She was one of the first students to be contacted by Stark,” the man confides in me. But Sharon’s history appears to be much more complex. “Because she was unable to pay off her debts, she turned to her niece Peggy for help. She agreed to give Sharon a loan in exchange for help getting her get her revenge.”

This definitely piques my interest. “Revenge? Who did she want to take revenge on?”

He averts his gaze from my questioning eyes and mumbles softly. “Me.” He coughs, a low rumble going through his chest like thunder. “I broke Peggy’s heart when I told her he didn’t see a future for us together and Peggy never recovered from that. She told Sharon that the only way she was going to get the money she needed was if she seduced me and documented our encounters.”

I finish his sentence for him. “And because Sharon was desperate, she did as she was told.”

I’ve seen this many times before. As I was still in college, I made a documentary on sex workers as part of my final examination. During the months I spent with them, following behind the scenes and sometimes even living with them to get a taste of the bigger picture, I realised that many choose this kind of work and many don’t. And for those who don’t, desperation is their primary drive.

“Unfortunately word travels fast and soon enough Tony Stark came across some whispers about a certain sexual encounter between a professor and a student. Sharon was forced to make a copy of the sex tape she was going to give to Peggy. This copy she made for Stark. Stark continued to use it as leverage against me. So we were now both in his pocket.”

My voice instinctively lowers, both captured and repulsed at the same time. “What happened then? Did Stark take advantage of Sharon?”

“Sharon became one of Stark’s personal toys,” he answers coldly, his eyes set on a distant yet fresh memory. “But he never laid a hand on her. And I became Stark’s puppet. Sharon didn’t want to go down without a fight and contacted her niece Peggy for help again. Peggy however didn’t want to help out Sharon a second time and refused.”

“Poor girl.” I push back and errant strand of red hair, obstructing my view of the typed words on the computer screen. I’ve already got a full-bodied text right in front of me, it just needs to be tweaked a little bit more to fit the hunger of the media and we’re good to go. “She had no-one to turn to anymore.”

“No-one but me,” he corrects me promptly. “Peggy even told Stark that she wanted to leave and he… disciplined Sharon. This eventually lead to her pregnancy.”

Up until now, I had always silently assumed that my source, the professor, had been the father of Sharon’s child. I couldn’t find much about the pregnancy anyway so I filled in the gaps myself, knowing you should never judge without any concrete evidence. Turns out it’s none other than Tony Stark who unwillingly conceived a child in the aftermath of a so-called ‘punishment’.

“Our only option was to get married. I only did it so that we could claim that the child was, is mine and bear any consequences that would fall upon us with our heads held high.”

An uncomfortable silence follows. As he reaches for his glass of water and takes a small sip, I save everything on my computer, locking eyes with him as I do so. “But I’m sure there were many,” I try in an attempt to keep the conversation going, the words flowing. “Consequences, I mean.”

He chuckles dryly. “Oh, no, that’s where you’re wrong. Stark made sure there were no consequences but only to protect himself. Sharon eventually miscarried after receiving a thorough beating by Stark when she stood up to him and refused to play his prostitute for as long as she was with child. His child.”

Their marriage had proven to be insufficient in protecting both Sharon and himself, so he filed for divorce and made arrangements for Sharon to be flown to his family in Boston. Since both her parents were dead and she had no other relatives besides Peggy, this was their best solution.

“You mentioned there were two girls willing to back up your story.” I pull out another headshot, this time of a dark-haired woman. “Is this her?,” I ask him, holding up the photograph.

“Yes, that’s true. That’s Wanda Maximoff.” I nod and put the picture back into its folder. “Her brother, Pietro Maximoff, joined Stark’s little enterprise later the same year. After Stark lost control over Sharon, he needed someone to keep his business going… and to keep me… in check.”

“Quite a curious way of putting things, don’t you think?”

“I can see why you’d say that.” The blond heaves out a strained laugh. “Wanda fell prey to this… charlatan,” he snarls with pertinent contempt, his anger growing as the story advances. “When he found out she forged her test scores and cheated on her exams. Multiple times. In exchange for his silence, Wanda was to occupy me on almost a daily basis. I didn’t know and fell for her flirtations. But as our relationship continued, smudges started to appear. I – I started to lose interest in her… So Stark set Sam Wilson up, knowing we were close friends.”

“He set him up?,” I repeat inquisitively. “Are you referring to how Stark had alluded to Wilson that a certain student was willing to offer her services to him? Can you corroborate this?”

“He told Wilson he’d caught wind of how one of his students had a huge crush on him and wouldn’t mind a private rendezvous. Sam’s a nice guy but he’s extremely gullible and of course easily charmed by the ladies. When I found out about Stark’s scheme, I agreed to uphold a sexual relationship with Wanda in order to protect my friend and the girl. I did it to keep Stark from ruining their lives.”

“What was Stark’s reaction to this? What happened to the girl?”

“Stark held up his word and interfered just in time for him to walk in on Sam and the girl. Made sure Sam couldn’t do anything he would later regret once he had been aware of the truth. But unfortunately Wanda’s brother found out. Pietro tried to help his sister out by offering Stark an exchange of some sorts. Stark accepted and his sister had been freed of her so-called duties ever since. Pietro took over from Wanda.”

He releases a shuddering breath, his spirit running out. I decide to release him of his duties, presuming he’s already got a big chunk of guilt off his chest, his eyes softening the more he reveals. He keeps talking and talking and talking until the catharsis is complete. He came here to right a wrong, or so he keeps telling himself. But I strongly believe this is just to first stop on his path to redemption.

“Thank you so much, professor. I believe this is enough for the day.”

I shut off and closed my laptop, indicating the end of our conversation and expect him to get up from his chair, to pull on his jacket and take his leave with a kind goodbye. But he doesn’t and remains seated, a thoughtful look on his face.

Something in his demeanour has changed, his shoulders more squared and his back as straight as a pole. Where he was visibly relaxed during our session, he has tensed up completely. But his eyes, his baby blue eyes, they and glossed over and carry a peculiar look. One that sends shivers running down my spine.

“You know,” he starts off whispering softly, “Pietro tries to save up enough money to buy his freedom from Stark by running errands for his friend, your stepson, James Barnes. And when Pietro heard it was Bucky’s girl that was in trouble…” He whistles lowly, chuckling darkly when my head shoots up to meet his gaze.

Thrown off by this sudden turn of events, I take a moment to collect myself. My voice has a tense tone to it, baffled by the transformation in his expression. “The girl… Is the girl by any chance Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yeah. Pietro’s been keeping an eye out for her. We all are.”

“Who’s we?,” I query squinting my eyes and sitting down on the edge of the desk, facing him directly.

“Wanda doesn’t really like Y/N,” he deflects the question, “but we need her.”

I’m starting to grow irritated, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to come across as intimidating and not intimidated. “Why? Why on earth would you need Y/N?”

“There’s a reason Tony framed Y/N… He’s sweet on her. So if we keep Stark’s eye on her, he won’t look as closely at us anymore. She, Y/N, she keeps him distracted so that we,” he points to me and then back to himself a couple time to emphasise his words and illustrate his point, “can have this conversation and expose his entire business.”

“Oh God,” I claps my hand in front of my mouth. At this point, I am too astonished to notice how the smile tugging at his lips translates into a toothy grin. “You selfish bastard! You’re using her. Using me.”

“No, I’m not using her,” he is quick to reply. “I would never put her in harm’s way. I happen to take a fancy to her. So if anything happens to Y/N, it will be her own fault. She’s not a saint, you know. She already tried to seduce me once, who’s to say she won’t try it again? And who’s to say I will say no a second time?,” the professor smirks devilishly.

“I don’t believe you. Y/N would never…” My breath hitches in my throat. There’s little I believe will ever have the power to render me silent, but it seems I will have to add one more item to my list. “Why are you doing this?”

A shadow looms over his handsome features. “Payback, Mrs. Romanoff. Or Barnes. Payback, it’s as simple as that. And Tony Stark must pay. Soon.”

“As much as I appreciate our arrangement and the time and effort you’ve put into it, but all of that ends now,” I threaten half-heartedly, knowing I will lose a great scoop if I give this up now. “I will not help you execute your revenge if innocent people are going to be caught in the middle of it.”

“I promise you that Y/N will not get caught in the crossfire. I will protect her.” His words are fierce and fearless. He means them.

“So this is all about the girl, hm?”

“Stark has his eye on her. She doesn’t know anything and we intend to keep it that way. I trust you understand,” are his final words before he brusquely stands up and moves to the door, dismissing any further discussion or negotiation with a wave of the back of his hand.


	8. Little monster part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a confession to make. Wanda tries to meddle with Steve’s love life. Y/N pays a visit to Steve’s office.

Then

Bucky had rented off the entire restaurant, alcohol on his breath and anxiety in his eyes. You sat across from him, listening to his rambling as he went on and on about how sorry he was for something he had yet to explain to you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I should’ve known better.”

You begged him to just tell you what was wrong but he continued to apologise. Getting up from your seat and moving to stand next to him, cradling his teary face in your hands and kissing his forehead softly, you whispered warmly. “What’s wrong, Bucky. Please, you’re not making any sense.”

“I – I was tempted, Y/N,” he stammered. “You have to believe me. I never cheated on you.” Bucky sucks in a deep breath, releasing it shakily. “I came close quite a few times, Y/N. Like I said, I was so tempted… She kept on flirting with me and I was drunk again and…” He looks up into your eyes and swallows thickly. “But I never cheated on you. Please don’t believe a word she says to you,” he rushes to add to his confession. You are unsure of who they are and why Bucky was telling you this in the first place, until he averts his gaze and murmurs a string of profanities under his breath.

“Wanda Maximoff,” he tells you, a guilt-ridden expression on his face. “I kissed Wanda Maximoff.” The words slamming into you with a force unmatched. “Wanda fucking Maximoff.”

You had feared and expected that this moment would come. It all added up to this. Wanda rejecting Clint, spending much more time in the same scene as her brother which ultimately meant she spent much more time in Bucky’s clique, too. She wormed her way into Bucky’s life the same way you wormed your way into professor Rogers’ life, albeit unintentionally. Yes, you knew. Long before he told you he harboured feelings for you.

“If you truly love me,” you leave a dramatic pause, Bucky fidgeting under your scrutinising gaze, “You will get rid of both of them for me.”

“Baby, you know I’d do anything for you,” Bucky pledges truthfully, crossing his heart. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

“I don’t ever wanna hear the name Maximoff again. I don’t care how, I just want them gone. I want them ruined. Especially Wanda.” He frantically nods his head, reaching for your hand which you quickly pull away from his grasp. “Don’t touch me. Don’t call me. Don’t come to my house or anything until you’ve handled the situation. If you fail… we are done.”

***

Now - Steve’s POV

I was wandering the hallways after my morning class, looking for a vending machine and something sweet, when I spotted her exciting Stark’s office. She was dressed entirely in black, as if she was attending a funeral, her sleeves rolled up and showing the carvings in her skin. During one of our pillow talk sessions, she confided in me that she started hurting herself because of Stark. It made my blood boil. Not only did he force me to turn down any and all job applications from other universities offering me prestigious positions, he also took away any chance I ever had at a tenure. Destroying my academic chances is one thing, but Wanda’s mental health issues are another. All the more reason to make him pay.

It just so happens that she starts to walk in my direction, her eyes landing on me as soon as she steps around the corner and runs into me, her shoulder bumping mine as I take a step backwards and my back collides with the vending machine. Wanda rushes out a hushed sorry and holds my arm while she regains her balance, putting up a strong façade but I can see she’s been crying.

Concern laces my voice when I confront her. “What happened? What did he wanna talk about now?”

Wanda lets go of my arm, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her ripped black jeans and her eyes cast downwards. “He isn’t pleased. Thinks I’m not making enough progress.”

“Not enough progress with Y/N or with me?,” I chuckle softly in an attempt to lighten up the mood but it’s of no avail. She looks thoroughly shaken up, poor girl.

“With both. He believes I’m stalling which, let’s face it, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m trying to keep you out of the line of fire and I’m still working on Y/N.”

I place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. “You don’t have to stand up for me, doll. I can handle Stark. But what do you mean with that you’re still working on Y/N? I thought we agreed I would take it from here?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I just gave her a push in the right direction, that’s all.”

My suspicions are raised immediately, my voice low and threatening. She comes across as a lovely, innocent girl with that pretty face of hers, but she’s a menacing vixen underneath that winged eyeliner. “What do you mean, Wanda? What did you do?”

“I drove a wedge between her and Bucky,” she confesses dryly, giving me a half-hearted grin. She sounds pleased with herself, but I’m pretty sure she’s just covering up her own insecurities, another cut on her wrist. “Made sure I left a lasting impression on him. And knowing Bucky, he’s going to tell her. Come clean. He loves her way too much to keep secrets from her.”

“Damnit, Wanda!,” I whisper strongly, keeping my temper in check as her eyes light up in amusement at how I’m struggling not to lash out at her. I wanna scream at her, at the top of my lungs, but that would cause a scene and we don’t want to draw attention.

“Calm down, Steve. No need to lose your shit over a kiss.” As my brows knit together, a girly chuckle slips past her lips. “Yeah, we just kissed. I would never sleep with Bucky.”

“When all of this is over,” I sigh defeatedly, rubbing my hands over my face and running my fingers through my tousled blond hair. “After Romanoff has published our story… I’m off to Boston.”

“Back to Sharon, then?” Her tone is swinging somewhere between amused and annoyed. It tickles a dark place inside my mind, so I intend to shut this down as soon as the thoughts race though my head.

“No, not at all. I’m cutting all ties. That’s why I’m not sleeping with Y/N and why you shouldn’t play around with Bucky either.”

“It’s just a kiss. Just to stir things up between them. It’ll drive her right into your arms.” The texture of her words carries a shady undertone. She’s a clever girl, a scheming and deviously clever girl.

“And make her vulnerable for Stark’s manipulations!,” I throw right back at her, my voice raising steadily.

Shaking her head, she shoots me a hard look when we lock eyes. “She’s won’t. Trust me.”

We can hear distant voice approaching fast so she laces her hand around my wrist, turning on the heels of her feet and guiding me towards an empty office space close to my own. “How did the interview go anyway?,” she asks sideways as she kicks the door shut behind her. How easily the subject of the conversation has swung from one end to the other.

I give up, there’s no room for reasoning when Wanda has set her mind to something.

“Natasha is a smart woman. She’s gonna help us but it took some convincing.”

“You mentioned Y/N, didn’t you?” Wanda’s eyes bore right through mine, smirking at my lack of response. “You totally did. Because that girl’s our leverage, hm? But you do really care about her. You ain’t fooling me and she’s going to come to you whether you like it or not.”

***

2 weeks after - Y/N’s POV

I knock on professor Rogers’ door, awaiting an answer. I knock again, more forcefully this time, hoping that if he is in fact in his office like the receptionist said. About ready to barge down his door, I finally hear the clicking of the lock. The door creaks open softly, his sleepy blue eyes crossing mine.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? It’s Friday evening, you should be out partying or something.” He sounds groggy and I strongly believe he either fell asleep working or has been sleeping over at his office.

“I needed to talk to you,” I press with urgency, attempting to worm my way past him. But he is much taller and built like a God, so I just end up pushing myself against him which is not the message I am trying to send here. “Can we please talk in private?”

Eventually he lets his woes and worries slide, moving away from the door and gaining you entrance to his office. Which is, for the record, a complete and utter mess. Pieces of paper and a legion of documents, who hopefully belong to him and not some poor student of him, are scattered carelessly over the entire floor. I have to watch my every step and be very careful if I don’t want to smudge any dirt on the pristine white. Finally I make it to the chair and sit down softly, waiting for him to take a seat opposite of me.

He coughs and the rattling sounds worrisome to me. “You’re getting sick, Steve. You haven’t been taking good care of yourself, have you?”

Whatever kindness there ever was in his voice, is gone the moment you say his name. “Professor. Not Steve, but professor. Professor Rogers, if you please.” The chastising tone is enough to get me to second-guess my decision to come here on a Friday evening, instead of following Clint into town on his very booze cruise.

“We gotta talk about what happened.”

“No we don’t. Some things are better left… alone.”

“We had sex, Steve. I don’t want to leave it alone. It’s just gonna make things more uncomfortable between you and me and I don’t want that.” The emotional pressure behind your words has subsided into a wave of calm, cold and composed reasoning. “We have to talk this through or it will only make things worse.”

“Okay,” he agrees with a slow nod of his head, red-rimmed eyes avoiding yours. He really doesn’t look too good to you, but you decide against making another comment about it.

“Let me come with you. To Boston.” Steve scrunches up his nose at your collected tone and the sincerity behind it. There’s no doubt about your determination, even though your motives might not be as noble. “There’s nothing left for me here.”

“You can make amends with Bucky,” Steve offers dryly, opening his bottom drawer and taking out a half-full bottle of whiskey, intending on pouring himself a glass. He looks up at you and you lock eyes, his blue gems drowning in a puddle of intoxication and self-loathing.

“You want some, too?,” he inquires and you shake your head no. Simply shrugging your refusal away, the dark liquid cascades into his glass in mere seconds. And in mere seconds he drinks it all at once.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” you let your disgust shine through, “Drinking yourself to death Is not going to solve this mess. Pull yourself together.”

Groaning and ardently setting his glass down on his wooden desk, he stares into the blank space behind you. It should infuriate you and maybe under difference circumstances you would’ve already taken the glass and bottle away from him and thrown it out the window. But your feelings are standing in your way.

“Steve, babe,” you sigh softly, reaching out for him only for him to refuse your touch. It hurts and the pained expression that follows shows just how much.

“I’m not your babe, Y/N,” he replies in a growl. “You were just… A one-night-stand. A decent fuck.”

You clench your jaw involuntarily. “Don’t say those things to me. Don’t you dare lie to me.”

“I’m not lying to you. I told you straightaway that there could never be an us. Yes, I gave in to you that one time because you drive me crazy, Y/N. You are everything I’ve been looking for in a woman. But you came to me whilst in distress and instead of comforting you, helping you like a good person would’ve done, we got hot and heavy in a bathroom stall and finished the job at my apartment. Only to wake up next to a flimsy note.”

He seems detached from his old self, the man you were willing to seduce in order to get the future you’ve always wanted. A future that belonged to Bucky. But now Bucky is gone… The only future you see now is clouded by images of Steve whispering sweet nothings in your ear and spurred on by an almost feral instinct to have him close to you.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you discard his selfish tantrum. “I had just found out about… everything! I didn’t know what to believe anymore! So I came to the one person I knew would…”

“Fuck you, regardless?”

“Be fucking honest with me.”

Your answer triggers all the pent-up anger he’s been able to quarantine for as long as possible. But it’s been boiling inside him, taking its toll.

He simply doesn’t believe you and how can he ever believe you when he feels so low about himself? How can you have these kind of feelings for him when you’re in so much trouble and all because of him? The only reason must be that you’re just as wicked as Wanda. And although he’s fully aware that he might just be running away from something good, that he’s just fooling himself by thinking he’s no good for you, Steve refuses to let himself be blinded by you once more.

“Spare me the troubled, heartbroken act, Y/N! Because it’s all just play-pretend with you, too, isn’t it?,” Steve suddenly lashes out at you, throwing his empty glass against the wall. It shatters into a million glistening pieces and you yelp in surprise and anguish.

Genuinely scared, you shift in your seat and dig your nails into the soft leather. Steve then jumps out of his chair and kicks a stack of papers up into the air before absolutely ransacking his shelves. Everything clatters onto the ground and it’s as if you see his life falling apart right in front of you, a front-row seat to the unravelling of the professor.

Steve crashes to the ground, his knees colliding first and his hands follow mercilessly, the broken shards from earlier instantly drawing blood from his veins. Strangled whimpers are pulled from his lips as you remain frozen in your seat. It is only when he whispers your name that everything kickstarts into motion and your body acts of its own volition, leaving no room for your mind to catch up and object.

Crouching down next to him, paying no mind to the treacherous glass digging into the fabric of your jeans, you cradle his face and hold him close to your chest. Your next attempt contains a more direct approach when you tend to his small wounds next. But this requires him to calm down firs so you try to ease the heartache first, shushing and humming and kissing his face.

“Babe, this is how it’s gonna go,” you explain gently, pushing back the hair that has fallen in front of his beautiful eyes.

“We’re not heading for a disaster, baby. We just gotta hold on a little longer and all will be fine. Yes, Natasha didn’t hold up her end of the agreement and twisted the story. Yes, Wanda stabbed you in the back and tried to pin it all down on you. But Stevie, listen to me,” you press a tender kiss to his forehead and he smiles a little.

“Tony didn’t rape me. I’m fine. You don’t have to keep your distance anymore. I’m safe. You’re safe. We can go to Boston together because I know that’s what you really want. We will have a life, a good life together. Just because you can’t see that yet, doesn’t mean it’s not gonna happen.”

Through all the broken sobs, you can distinguish one singular phrase. “I’m scared because I might be falling in love with you.”

The static rises as it all implodes inside your heart. “Don’t be, Steve. Don’t be scared,” you mutter to his lips before connecting them in a searing kiss.


End file.
